


Cupcakes, Currents, Motorcycles and Rocketships (The Past is never as Far Away as We Think It Is)

by Yarol2075



Series: Rockets, Rainbows, Cupcakes, and Pie. [2]
Category: Captain Scarlet - All Media Types, Thunderbirds
Genre: Additional Characters to be added, Brotherly Support, Fluff, Light Angst, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Character Being Seriously Injured, Past Character Death, Please read the Author's Notes in the third to last chapter, Scott Tracy behaving badly in the past, Scott and Conrad are pair of andrenaline junkies, They contain the trigger warnings for that chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2020-10-13 10:49:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20581283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yarol2075/pseuds/Yarol2075
Summary: It turns out rebuilding the T-Engine needed to make Zero-X mark two isn't has easy as they hoped it would be.  Ghosts from Scott's past complicate matters.





	1. An Unhallowed Grave

As it turned out no one civilian entity had a complete set of plans for the Zero-X’s T-Drive Engine. Apparently the Global Government had decided that it would be too tempting for someone to try again, or for some malcontent to build a potential global devastation bomb and blackmail the world by altering the plans just a little bit. So the only complete set of plans had been given over to the Global Intelligence Network and locked away so deeply the majority of scientists believed they had actually been destroyed. Existing partial sets of the plans located in the various Consolidated File Archives were intelligently altered to render them ‘harmless.’

So Brains was extrapolating a great deal, and separating out the ‘red herring’ details, but it was painstaking work. And it was going much slower than he had first anticipated. It was possible it would take him years to successfully rebuild the T-Drive Engine safely. Possibly a decade.

No one was willing to accept that. Most loudly Alan.

“Ten years?” Scott questioned Brains quietly, after the initial outcry. Virgil and Gordon were distracting Alan, but keeping an ear in on the discussion.

“Hopefully less,” Brains sighed, and polished his glasses, “but I can’t promise anything. If we had the original complete plans…”

Scott looked at Kayo and they both looked at John’s hologram.

“I’ve tried every legal way to get into GIN’s systems, and their systems are very polite, very professional, and very adamant that the T-Drive Engine plans are unavailable.”

“He tried some less than legal ways too,” EOS chimed, “I helped. But their systems’ security is tighter than,” the AI paused, and there was slight giggle “John’s space-suit.”

If looks could kill, John’s would have probably at least seriously maimed Scott.

“Thank you EOS,” John said in fond exasperation, “I did try to find a back-door into their system, but their security protocols are even better than the GDFs.”

“We’re going have to sneak in and get them then,” Kayo smiled in anticipatory satisfaction.

“Or we could take a page from your Mother’s book and actually go meet with them face to face,” Grandma Tracy chimed in, “Lucy could charm the stripes off a bumblebee. And they don’t see reason after that,” her eyes sparkled mischief, “well, I’ll talk to them, after all how could they deny a poor frail old lady the knowledge of what happened to her only child when she’s on death’s doorstep?”

A collective look was shared.

“Not certain they would believe that, Grandma,” Scott shook his head fondly, “but maybe talking will work this time.”

* * *

The Global Intelligence Network's headquarters was an inconspicuous looking office building with a small park-like area snuggled around it; an altogether pleasant and bland looking place. While most of its operatives and staff used mass transit to get to work, there was a small parking lot for guests and the few staff members with personal vehicles. Currently there were four practical electric cars, a sleek black motorcycle, and a retro-fitted antique VW mini-bus. FAB-1 pulled in alongside the mini-bus and the motorcycle.

It had been decided that Scott, Brains and Lady Penelope would be the best representatives to try to convince the head of GIN that International Rescue interest in the T-Drive Engine plans were benign. Lady Penelope was known and well liked in so far as that would get them in the intelligence community, _and_ a good chunk of that community had either been mentored by her late Great Aunt Sylvia, or at least had the fear of the intelligence community goddess that she was put in them by their own mentors. Her presence and lineage carried a weight the other two simply would never have. They might have a bit of trouble with Parker’s history, but his loyalty to Lady Penelope was also known to be absolute and his presence at her side was expected. Dr. Hiram “Brains” Hackenbacker had a sterling and entirely above board reputation as an engineer, and known to be very, very careful in his endeavors. And of course, Scott Tracy representing the interests of Tracy Industries, International Rescue, and more importantly the Tracy Family. 

Scott took a moment to admire the motorcycle before they made their way to the public entrance. It was a fine machine, but something about it set an uneasy wave through his mind. He would have thought on it more except once they got to GIN’s reception desk there was a small ruffling of feathers as the young man manning it politely informed them that the only animals allowed in the building were service animals and properly vetted and documented emotional support animals.

Sherbet was neither. 

So Sherbet was left with Parker, who had been directed by the same polite young man to a pleasant area outside reserved for the comfort of guests, and noticeably distant from the outdoor area reserved for the staff.

They then got lost in the building. They had been told to follow the 'green' line and it would lead them to the correct office. They were stopped when they hit a high security, top secret area, but were treated kindly by the guards, who pointed they were in fact following the 'blue' line which was painted green, but had 'blue' printed in very small letters every fifteen feet. What they wanted was the line painted orange that had 'green' printed in very small letters every ten feet. No one was amused except the guards.

One of the guards escorted them to the Director's office suite, and then casually warned them that the Director, Admiral Charles Gray, was out and she wished them good luck in dealing with the new assistant director as she had heard he could be “difficult.”

“What happened to Gabriel Lane?” Penelope asked, as she had known the man quite well as he had been a favorite of her Great Aunt. She'd been hoping to leverage her acquaintance with him.

“He couldn't keep up with Sir Charles.”

Once inside the office suite they were greeted by an older woman, who visibly sized them up, and produced a basket in which she asked them to place any and all communication devices, transmitters, and weapons. Scott and Brains complied, Scott a touch reluctantly, and Lady Penelope placed her communicator in the basket with a sweet smile. 

“M'Lady,” the woman said a bit offended.

Penelope gave a startled laugh, and placed her earrings, bracelet, and rings in the basket as well.

“Ahem,” she was looking at Penelope's shoes

Penelope sighed and with regret removed the heels from her shoes, losing a good four inches in height.

“You're good,” Penelope said.

“I worked as a lady's maid for your Great Aunt for two months, M'Lady,” the other woman chuckled, “was the best education I could have in this business.”

Penelope's eye lit up.

“Eithne?”

“I was wondering if you would remember me,” but she smiled.

“I didn't recognize you; you're a chameleon,” Penelope complimented, “fantastic!”

“Thank you, M'Lady. I'm afraid if you and your gentlemen are here to see Sir Charles, you'll be disappointed. His daughter had a riding accident this morning, and he's rushed to her side,” Eithne hesitated, “you can try the Lt. Colonel, but he's a cold one for all that Sir Charles says otherwise. He does have the Admiral's trust though.”

Lady Penelope and Scott looked at each other, having a silent conversation. If they got nowhere with this Lt. Colonel, they could always appeal to Sir Charles later. It couldn't hurt.

“If we could, please,” Scott asked politely, a hint of the Tracy charm warming his voice.

“Very well,” Eithne picked up a handset. Old-fashioned, but then the other speaker’s reply couldn't be overheard when Eithne said there was a party from Tracy Industries needing to speak about a confidential matter. Brains thought it was a good use of archaic technology, “Scott Tracy, Dr. Hiram Hackenbacker, and Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward, sir,” she looked affronted for a moment, and looked at the three of them again, “Yes, sir.”

She settled the handset back down.

“He'll see you,” Eithne gestured to the doorway on her left behind her desk, “And M'Lady, if I could have Mr. Tracy's phone back?” Eithne held out the basket again.

Penelope's light laughter gave Scott a brief rush of hope, and then he entered the office after Brains, and felt as though someone had pulled the rug out from under him.

The man behind the desk looked up, grey-brown eyes meeting Scott's blue, and rose like a ghost from an unhallowed grave in Scott's memory. He came around the desk and extended his hand.

“Lady Penelope, Dr. Hackenbacker,” there was a slight pause, “Mr. Tracy. I'm Lieutenant Colonel Conrad Turner, assistant director of the Global Intelligence Network. I understand you have a confidential matter to discuss with us?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are apparently shoes you can remove the heels from - I think they would make nifty places to hide things, as well as improvised stilettos.


	2. Meeting on Whitney Avenue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The meeting doesn't go quite as expected. The past just can't help but trip up the present.

_Yale University_

_New Haven, CT._

_Autumn 2047_

“_Are your intentions toward my bike honorable, or do I need to get a bucket of cold water?”_

“_Hmm?” Scott hadn’t expected to see such a beautiful machine on Yale’s storied campus, and he wanted to make sure it was the real deal. Most of his classmates tended towards having a lot of flash, but very little bang when it came to vehicles. Scott was his Father’s son, and he liked things that went fast. So far as Scott could tell, this one didn’t just talk the talk, but could walk the walk so to speak. The adrenaline junkie in him was salivating._

“_Okay, the bucket it is.”_

“_Huh? What?! Wait!” _

* * *

Pleasantries were exchanged (Scott most curiously quiet) and the Tracy delegation was seated. Turner returned to behind his desk.

“What is this confidential matter that brings International Rescue to the Global Intelligence Network?” Turner inquired.

"You look good!" Scott blurted out.

The Lt. Colonel took in a sharp breath, tilted his head, and agreed politely, if with a slight edge in his voice:

“Yes, Mr. Tracy, it’s amazing the advancements they’ve made in burn treatment and reconstructive surgery.”

Scott winced and he looked as though he wanted to crawl under his chair.

Lady Penelope’s eyes slightly narrowed; she was missing pertinent information and she didn't like it. The change in assistant directors, she could forgive herself that lack of knowledge – bureaucratic shuffling and delayed announcements were par for course in the Intelligence business, Gray was obviously giving time for Turner to settle in. Penelope never pried into the Tracy family’s business (they regularly and casually invited her into it,) but she had never even heard a whisper of anything or anyone that could throw Scott into such a flustered state by just existing. And they needed Scott to be at the top of his game right now.

“Oh,” Brains’ eyes widened slightly and he let out a small, almost silent, “Oh dear.”

Penelope glanced at the engineer.

“You and Scott know each other?” she asked politely.

It was Scott who answered in a hurried, gulped, “Yale, we met at Yale.”

“We met while we were both at Yale,” the Lt. Colonel confirmed, “It was a long time ago.”

An awkward silence reigned. Scott was supposed to be leading this charge. Lady Penelope stepped in.

“We have come to ask if GIN would allow International Rescue access to the T-Drive Engine plans,” she stated plainly.

“Purely for research purposes,” Brains quickly assured.

Turner narrowed his eyes, and shook his head.

“No,” flat and final, and he started to rise, “I'm sorry that you came all this way for this, but no.”

“We're trying to find out what happened to Dad,” Scott all but yelled and again looked like he wished he was anywhere but there.

“I'm sorry, what?” Turner sat back down hard, incredulity dancing over his face.

“I need, we need to know what happened to my Father,” Scott said somewhat calmer, “to try and make peace with his loss once and for all. My family, my brothers, we need to know, and knowing what made the Zero-X T-Drive Engine malfunction would help that.”

"Mr. Tracy, that's morbid," Turner said, staring at the three of them in faint growing horror, "Even if I were inclined to give you the plans, I wouldn't,” then he looked Scott in the eyes again, “You know I read my parents’ autopsy reports thinking they might give me answers, closure; they gave me knowledge, but not peace. And honestly this isn’t going to give you any peace either, and I don't think you should do this to your family."

“That's” Scott paused, collected himself, “that's not your decision to make.”

“It is when I've been tracking attempts to hack into GIN's archives to retrieve those plans, and tracing them back to Thunderbird 5,” he replied blandly, “John's good, his...daughter?” he looked at Scott with a raised eyebrow, “Is even better, but GIN is bleeding edge. We notice and quickly retaliate to any cyber-attacks. You're lucky I recognized International Rescue's code and stopped our counter-hackers from dropping Thunderbird 5 from orbit.”

“You...You recognized our code?” Brains removed and polished his glasses.

The Lt. Colonel looked guilty, “I'm sorry,” his fingers flew over a touch board and a highly detailed, correct, and more importantly _current_ schematics of Tracy island appeared, quickly replaced by Thunderbird 5, replaced by Thunderbird 4, replaced by Thunderbird 3, replaced by Thunderbird 2, and finally Thunderbird 1 hung lit up in the air revolving over the holo-display.

Scott gawped, Lady Penelope froze, and Brains was a study in indignant horror. Not even the Mechanic had managed to get that far.

“Occasionally I get bored, and a bored Introvert is the most dangerous being on the planet,” he confessed, “and I remember your Father talking about starting International Rescue before,” he looked away, then back, “well, before, and I wanted to see how his vision came to life,” then he_ smiled _at Scott, awe in his eyes, “Thunderbird 1 is amazing,” and the unspoken _So is her pilot _hung in the air.

“Kayo is going to be furious,” Scott said numbly.

“Ms. Kyrano can contact me,” Turner said, then returned to the main subject, “as I said, this became my matter when International Rescue started poking at GIN's archives and I basically covered up for you. The Admiral was not happy with me. He understood, but he was angry.”

“You told Sir Charles?” Penelope asked calmly.

“Yes,” Turner looked incredulous again, “he's written well over half of GIN's current security protocols and likely will be tightening them further in the future. He also likes to review any and all irregularities. With him, it is _**not**_ a good idea to seek forgiveness rather than ask for permission. I went to him as soon as I found out.”

“Anyway, I'm afraid I cannot give you the plans and schematics for the T-Drive Engine in good conscience. They're locked away for a good reason. No one wants an extinction level event happening by accident. Especially not for answers regarding the death of one man.”

Lady Penelope let out a dainty sigh. They would have to find another way. While she was loathe to bring him in, her father, Lord Hugh, might have some pull with Sir Charles. She knew they at least had gentlemanly bets on cricket from time to time. She would just have to talk him around to it without letting him know why; Parker would help.

“We'll be going then,” she smiled placidly, beginning to rise, “and we're sorry for taking up your time, Lt. Colonel Turner,” she froze and sat back down when Scott said earnestly:

“He's not dead, Conrad. The T-Drive Engine actually worked and my Dad is not dead and we need to rescue him, and that's why we need those plans.”

This time Brains and Penelope openly looked at each other. _Everyone_ had agreed that _no one_ outside of International Rescue was to be told about Jeff Tracy's possible survival.

Turner stared at Scott. Scott stared at Conrad.

“Go on, Scott,” Conrad finally said.

Scott outlined the whole sequence of events starting with the _Calypso_, the rescue of Braman, and their discovery of what really happened that day when the world thought Jeff Tracy died to save it. Neither Brains nor Lady Penelope daring to interrupt him.

“...we have to do this, Conrad, we have to save Dad. Please.” Scott pleaded, big blue eyes almost, almost shimmering with tears.

“Aw gods, Scottie,” Conrad ended up laying his head down on his desk cradled in his arms, clearly not able to stand seeing Scott in distress. He lifted his head once to look at Scott again before putting it back down, mumbling, “Scottie, Scottie, dammit Scottie.”

With a deep breath, he sat back upright, and looked at Scott with regret.

“Scott, you’re not thinking this through. Even if your father made it to the Oort cloud…just how long would he be able to survive? Maybe long enough to send a distress call, but....No Food. No Water. No Air. Eight years. That's not good. Do you really think your Dad would want you to risk your life or your brothers’ lives for a corpse? I don't want to see that happen,” he pleaded, “and let’s say he has survived. Physically. Eight years is a long time for a man to be totally alone. You might find a mindless shell, or worse a raving lunatic. Scott, is that what you want Jeff Tracy’s memory to be ultimately?”

There was a single moment of perfect silence.

“You’re saying we should just give up on him? Would you?” Scott shot back, and then even as the words came out of his mouth he realized how awful they were, “What am I saying? _You_ never had a father to give up on!”

Conrad’s face was quite a study. It went blank from shock, contorted with anger, then pain, then grief, and finally settled on an icy calm expression that would have frightened even Kayo in under ten seconds.

“What I am saying, Mr. Tracy, is that there are fates worse than death,” the Lieutenant Colonel said coldly, “Especially in the public and private eyes of memory. Now, this discussion is over.”

He rose from behind his desk and ushered them out of his office. He shook Brains’ hand, gave Lady Penelope a cross between a head nod and a bow, and just glared at Scott until he shut the door on them.

Then he opened it again.

“Eithne, I imagine I will be getting a call from Ms. Tanusha Kyrano in the near future. Unless I am in a meeting, please put it through to me as soon as it comes in. Thank you.”

He glared at Scott again, and then slammed the door.

* * *

Scott held his head in his hands and kept muttering how he had fucked everything up once they were in FAB 1 again. Penelope didn't feel like contradicting him and sat, giving Sherbet scritches between his ears. Brains was fiddling with his glasses and his communicator.

Parker wisely did not say anything.

Lady Penelope relented and comfortingly patted Scott on his arm.

“We'll find another way, Scott,” she tried to sooth.

He looked at her tiredly.

“I don't think so, Penelope,” he sounded so defeated, which is why Brains' jubilant:

“YES!”

Startled them all so.

“Brains?” there was a fragile flicker of hope.

“These are the plans,” Brains' eyes were almost lit from within with his excitement, “Lt. Colonel Turner gave me a data chip when we shook hands before we left. I've been making sure it wouldn't compromise International Rescue's systems before I accessed it, but now that I've taken a look at them,” he had the information beamed to one of FAB 1's holo-displays, and the schematics for the T-Drive Engine came to life, “These are the real plans. We can rebuild it!”

Scott's head sunk into his hands again, but for an entirely different reason.

* * *

Several days later, Sir Charles Gray returned to the office; his daughter on the road to recovery and teasing him with “Oh Dad, you need to get back before Conrad gets annoyed and fires the whole staff and replaces them with A.I.s.”

Conrad immediately reported the situation to him, as he always did. The whole situation. Conrad Turner never lied to Charles Gray.

“And why did you give International Rescue the plans?” he asked, having faith that Conrad's action would not backfire on them, but still needing to know why.

“Three reasons, Sir,” Conrad counted them off on his fingers, “One, I didn’t want them even trying to hack into our systems again, and you know why. Two, the Tracy family now owes me a favor under the table – and if Jeff Tracy is alive possibly a bigger favor than Scott realizes. We might need that favor in the near future. Three, when Project Spectrum gets off the ground I’d rather International Rescue is at least neutral, if not friendly, towards it.”

“Four,” Charles Gray frowned faintly, reached over and tapped a fourth finger, and said with some concern, “Despite everything you are still in love with Scott Tracy.”

Conrad Turner never lied to Charles Gray, but he might omit something now and again.

“Four,” Conrad agreed ruefully, “Despite everything I am still in love with Scott Tracy.”

* * *

_Yale University_

_New Haven, CT._

_Autumn 2047_

  
“_Are your intentions toward my bike honorable, or do I need to get a bucket of cold water?”_

“_Hmm?” Scott hadn’t expected to see such a beautiful machine on Yale’s storied campus, and he wanted to make sure it was the real deal. Most of his classmates tended towards having a lot of flash, but very little bang when it came to vehicles. Scott was his Father’s son, and he liked things that went fast. So far as Scott could tell, this one didn’t just talk the talk, but could walk the walk so to speak. The adrenaline junkie in him was salivating._

“_Okay, the bucket it is.”_

“_Huh? What?! Wait!” _

_Scott turned and it took him a moment to place the face. Possibly because he hadn’t paid that much attention to the boring black-haired guy in the Folklore course he was taking to satisfy part of his humanities requirement. Of course, wearing black riding leathers, holding a helmet, and having a somewhat amused little smile in arresting gray-brown eyes, Scott had to wonder why he thought he was boring to begin with._

“_Good, I hate having to use the bucket method.”_

“_I like your motorcycle.”_

“_I can tell.”_

“_I’m Scott Tracy.”_

“_Conrad Turner.”_

“_I wanna ride your bike.”_

“_I can tell that too. Do you have a helmet? Goes too fast to not wear one.”_

“_Not with me.”_

_Conrad grinned, put his own helmet on, and swung his leg over his bike. He flipped up the visor to look at Scott._

“_Have a helmet tomorrow and I’ll give you a ride.”_

“_And after that can we ride your bike?” Scott asked insouciantly._

_A blush crawled over Conrad’s face as he blinked, stunned, but he still laughed._

“_We’ll see.”_

“_It's a date then, meet you here tomorrow,” Scott pushed his luck._

“_It's a date,” Conrad grinned, and then he roared off down Whitney Avenue, and left Scott planning on acquiring a motorcycle helmet and feeling pleased with himself._


	3. Currents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordon coaxes the painful past out of Scott. Sometimes big brothers need to listen to little brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I confess, I'm nervous about this part.

They had agreed not to radio ahead to Tracy Island that they had the T-Drive engine Plans. They didn’t want anyone to intercept that information.

So, they were greeted by the incredible bouncing Alan, being gently restrained by Virgil, and Grandma Tracy who looked as if she might just start bouncing herself. Gordon was seated a few feet away in a deck-chair being scolded by John via hologram for taking the stairs instead of the elevator. Kayo was out on patrol.

All it took was Scott’s “We got them,” and things got a little wild. No one really noticed Scott slipping away.

Later Lady Penelope settled down in a hammock with Gordon. There was a lovely breeze.

“Gordon, who is Conrad Turner to Scott?”

“Hrm?” Gordon had drifted a bit, “Who?”

“Lt. Colonel Conrad Turner, he’s the assistant director who gave Brains the engine plans.”

Gordon thought for a moment; the name did sound familiar.

“Huh, I thought he was the head of the GDF’s Space division.”

“Apparently he’s transferred.”

“Conrad Turner. Conrad Turner. Conra…Oh! Scott’s Conrad! Wow, they’re the same guy?!?”

Penelope dearly and deeply cared for Gordon Tracy (she wasn’t comfortable admitting it was more than that yet) but there were times she completely understood his brothers’ occasional desire to throttle him.

“They said they met at Yale.”

“Oh yeah, same guy, wow, Scott was really serious about him,” Gordon carelessly confirmed, “I never got why. I thought he was boring. Made Scott happy though.”

“When did they break up?”

Gordon thought about that for a while, he reached out to gently push the low wall, so the hammock would sway a little. A furrow developed between his eyebrows.

“I don’t know. Now that I think of it, he was there one day and gone the next as far as I remember. Scott didn’t date anyone seriously again until Nia came along and then no one since they broke up.”

Penelope pondered this.

“Well, our meeting with him went from ice cold but cordial, to heated but still cordial, to a staring match between them that made me wonder if I should take Brains and discretely slip out of the office and let them get on with it, to us finally getting thrown out of his office before he felt compelled to murder Scott,” Penelope mused, “it didn’t feel as if it was over long ago. In some respects, it didn’t feel like it was over at all.”

“Wait, he threw you out of his office, but he still gave Brains the T-Drive plans?”

“Yes, you can see why I’m curious.”

“Yeah, that is weird,” Gordon rolled to tried and face Penelope, but that resulted in Penelope also rolling to face Gordon, and they were closer than Gordon planned. A delicate pink rose in Penelope’s cheeks. “uhh…”

Then Shebert hopped up and in between them. Gordon could have sworn he heard Parker chuckle from somewhere nearby.

* * *

Scott hadn’t expected it to be Gordon. Virgil, yes, with his endless concern. John, yes, although his might be a more welcome clinical analysis than Virgil. Even Alan possibly with the whole connection to space; Scott knew Conrad had assessed Alan’s abilities at John’s behest but Scott had stayed out of it. 

But Gordon who hadn’t really much paid attention or cared back then as far as Scott remembered? 

Not really something Scott expected.

“Sooo,” Gordon drawled, as he settled himself on the desk as Scott worked through some of the T.I. paperwork he had to approved each month, “You gonna go see him again?”

“Who?’ Scott asked absently, his eyes scanning the invoices on the screen for any irregularities.

“Conrad. Your ex-boyfriend, Colonel Conrad. Not has regular gaming sessions with Alan, might have a crush on Virgil, Space Controller Conrad.”

That got Scott’s startled attention.

“Brains told Virgil, Virgil told John and Kayo, and I heard it first from Penny, and then Virgil and John,” Gordon said matter-of-factly, “took me a minute to figure out why they were all so interested because all I could remember was how boring he seemed.”

Scott shook his head with a sad chuckle; his family could be the worse gossips.

“I don’t think he would want to see me again, Gordon,” Scott shrugged, and refocused on the paperwork, “we didn’t part on the best terms the first time around, and things were tense while we were at GIN.”

Gordon tilted his head, and squinted his eyes as he gave Scott a long look.

“Nnnn, I don’t know, Scott, he did give us the T-Drive Engine plans even with your foot in mouth disease, and Penny seems to think there’s still a spark there. And he does know how dangerous being part of International Rescue is; it wouldn’t be like what happened with Nia.”

Scott looked up again sharply. Gordon _would_ bring up Nia, Scott’s ex-fiancée . Nia who was sweet, loving, and had the wisdom to realize she wouldn’t be able to make a life with Scott once she witnessed a rescue first hand and realized just how dangerous they could be. Scott couldn't even be angry with her when she broke up with him; it had felt like karma had caught up with him. She had been completely and gently honest with him. She knew herself too well to try to delude herself she would get use to that. They were still good friends. 

“Gordon…” Scott shook his head, “even if he would speak to me, without Lady Penelope,” and Scott noted just how familiar Gordon was becoming with her, “and Brains along, Conrad has good reason to not want to.”

Gordon interrupted him.

“Scott, I may have thought he was boring, but I do remember that you seemed really happy when you were with him and I remember you laughing a lot back then. And I remember Mom and Dad liked him. I know Mom liked him _a lot,_” Gordon cautiously shifted to secure his perch on the desk, not wanting to aggravate the leg that had recently been deemed strong enough again for him to move around without a cast, “and I know currents Scott. I have to, and you might think some of the stuff I believe is mumbo-jumbo, but I don’t think it’s a coincidence that your college sweetheart is the guy who gave us the plans we needed to have, to have the best chance to get Dad back. Sometimes you just gotta follow the current and see where it takes you, Scottie.”

"It's not that simple, Gordon," Scott's frustration creeping into his voice. He looked around. No one else seemed to be around. He knew Grandma and Virgil were on a supply run. Lady Penelope and Parker had departed to return to England. Kayo was snooping around the GDF, and he knew she didn't want him to know that, but EOS sent him updates whether he wanted them or not. Alan was down 'helping' Brains, and Scott made a mental note to set up a nice long weekend away from the Island somewhere hopelessly geeky for their Engineer to relax. John, well John was everywhere, but generally didn't eavesdrop on his brothers. EOS probably was eavesdropping, but John's A.I. was developing a surprising amount of discretion. Scott heaved a sigh, "Gordon, I've only ever told Dad this after he noticed Conrad wasn’t around, and I made him pinky-promise swear on Captain Kirk and the last of the Babylon stations he would not throw me out of the family before I did tell him."

Gordon stared at Scott in horror. All of them knew the seriousness of that particular promise. It may have sounded ridiculous, but that was how they knew it was serious.

"Scooter, what _did _**you** _do_?"

Scott hesitated.

Gordon grabbed his hand and linked their pinkies.

"I swear, on the honor and integrity of Captain Kirk, and on the Hope of the Last of the Babylon Stations, I will still love, respect and even like you as my brother, Scott, no matter what you tell me."

The earnestness in Gordon's big brown eyes almost undid Scott completely.

"All right, All right," Scott said, then took a moment to center himself, "Conrad was supposed to come on the Trip," of course Gordon knew what trip the Trip was, only one trip ever merited the verbal capital 'T', "but his leave got cancelled by his C.O. because his C.O. decided they needed him to fly in this air show at a GDF Base in the U.K. I was so annoyed,” Scott smiled painfully, “I had been planning on asking him to marry me on that trip. Mom was so excited. And then," Scott made a gesture with his hand, it was something Scott just couldn't bring himself to say.

"Mom and Grandpa and Virgil got caught in that avalanche," Gordon filled in, even though he knew Scott would wince.

"We kinda got pre-occupied with that," Scott gave a sick grin, "We weren't aware of it at the time, but there had been a terrorist attack at the GDF airfield on the same day."

"Understandably so," Gordon chimed in.

“Yeah,” Scott continued, looking a little sick, "But Conrad...Conrad defied a direct order, and flew an aircraft packed with explosives out over the ocean, saving the lives of about ten thousand civilian spectators. He almost ejected in time," Scott had to take a deep breath, and it still took everything he had to say, "he still got caught in the blast."

Gordon placed a hand Scott's shoulder and waited until Scott could speak again.

“A GDF Naval ship found him. It was bad, Gordo, they didn't even think he'd survive the chopper flight to the hospital.”

“I tried calling him after we lost Mom and Grandpa and calling him and calling him and he never answered, and I mean he had to know what happened. It was all over the news,” Scott laughed bitterly, “I was so angry with him. Didn’t he know I needed him? I eventually got a call…”

“That’s right you did disappear for a while,” Gordon remembered, “Scottie, what happened?”

“I got to the hospital. I was probably one of the few people they would let in to see Conrad. Fuck, Gordon, I flipped out at him. He was dying and I…” Scott’s head fell into his hands, “I said horrible things, things I knew would hurt him, and…I was a monster. I needed him, but he needed me more, and I just…The staff threw me out.”

Scott lifted his head, but didn’t look at Gordon.

“I went back to the hotel and slept for about ten hours straight. I woke up and realized what I had done, but by then it was too late. He’d actually died, you know? Only reason they got him back was the Captain of the ship who rescued him came, realized what was happening, then barged in and flat out ordered him to not die. Turns out the Captain’s wife and daughter had been at the air show, he didn’t want his little girl to have say thank you to a tombstone. He stayed with Conrad as long as he could, and then his wife came and they basically got him through everything.”

Scott finally looked at Gordon, eyes red, tears flowing down his face.

“The hospital understandably wouldn’t let me near him again. Only reason I think we didn’t end in a nasty scandal is they had some respect for our Family and we were grieving. But there’s a GDF hospital in Wales where I’m still persona non grata. Then when we were at GIN I used my knowledge of his past to hurt him. Do you really think he’d want to see me again?”

Gordon was quiet for a long time. Scott got nervous.

“Gordon?”

Gordon carefully hopped off the desk, and hobbled around it and Scott. He wrapped his arms around Scott’s shoulders from behind, and gave him a brotherly squeeze before he settled his chin on Scott’s shoulder.

“I don’t know what to think, Scott. That was a shit thing to do,” Gordon admitted, “but he still gave us the T-Drive plans, and I know I wouldn’t have if I had been in his shoes. So maybe, maybe you need to say thank you, and apologize for hurting him. Then whatever happens, whether he tells you to go to hell, or lets you back in, it’s up to him. Maybe he needs that to happen too. But this is always gonna haunt you, Scott, if you don’t do something.”

Scott reached up and patted the top of Gordon’s head.

“When did you get so smart, Squid?”

“Hey! I’ve always been smart, you all just don’t appreciate it,” he paused, “how did Dad react?”

“He was _disappointed _in me”

“Ouch!”

“But given how he reacted to Mom and Grandpa’s deaths, he understood, sorta. He did tell me if I ever prioritized the dead over the living again he’d…oh.”

“Scott?”

“Just realized why I reacted so badly to what Conrad said,” Scott nodded mostly to himself, “You’re right, I need to see him again. But first, do you think Lady Penelope could put me in touch with a really good bakery?”


	4. That Damn Cupcake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott convinces Conrad to talk to him. A chocolate cupcake is aggressively consumed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is going to be longer than four chapters. I am trying to post once a week. This last week was not a good writing week, so this is rather short. I'm sorry. The image of the cupcake is what started this whole thing btw.

The day was beautiful, and any number of GIN staff members were taking advantage of the outside lounge area that Admiral Gray had insisted be created when he took command (the previous head of GIN had been a very efficient, very dour man named Hodgeskins who saw very little reason for any outdoor amenities when the staff lunchrooms were perfectly suitable for eating in, despite the fact that they were small, ugly and all of them had the most peculiar smell that no one could place or get rid of.) Lt. Colonel Conrad Turner had just finished his lunch, alone. It was something that didn’t bother him.

Conrad sat with his eyes closed for a moment to enjoy the warmth of the air and peaceful chatter of the people at other tables. Then the air shifted a bit and he tensed. Someone was closer than he liked and there was another shift in the air right in front of him as something was placed there. His eyes opening, he was fast enough to catch the wrist of Scott Tracy, who looked a little shocked. Then Conrad looked at what was in front of him on the table. 

A cupcake.

Cupcake was a bit of a misnomer. This was a CUPCAKE. It was large. It was very dark chocolate. It was elaborately decorated starting with a swirl of vanilla and dark chocolate buttercream frosting and ending with black super-fine sugar and gold dust lovingly applied with the help of what must have been very flexible stencils to form motorcycles, rockets and fighter jets, and had the utter audacity to be topped with a chocolate covered cherry.

He looked up at Scott, and let go of his wrist.

“Is this a bribe, a peace offering, or an apology?”

Scott considered as he tilted his head.

“It could just be a thank you,” he said with earnestness, “But it’s really a ‘I want to talk to you, and I’m using my unfair knowledge of your love of chocolate baked goods to keep you in one place.’”

“I could just walk off with this and leave you standing.”

“But you won’t,” Scott’s face blossomed with a confident smile.

People were beginning to notice something was going on and the peaceful chatter of a few moments before was becoming worrying whispers. Conrad swore at least one person just kept irritatingly repeating “That’s Scott Tracy! That’s Scott Tracy!” and more just seemed to be stunned that: “He’s talking to Turner? And not getting growled at?”

“Sit down, you’re attracting attention, and it’s unfair use of my love of chocolate baked goods and those damn dimples.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” but Scott sat down just the same.

“It depends.”

“On?”

“Whether or not I decide eventually to slug you.”

“I probably deserve to be slugged.”

Lt. Colonel Turner straightened up and looked around, meeting people’s eyes with a raised eyebrow and a frown. People went hurriedly back to eating their lunches and minding their own business. As it was, he knew there would be gossip.

“That should give us some privacy before they start peeking again,” Conrad relaxed minutely, “so what do you want to talk about?”

“Well, I did want to thank you for the information you gave us,” Scott replied smoothly and quietly, “it’s a great help to Brains.”

“Good to hear.”

And then they sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, as Conrad consumed the cupcake with as much restraint and dignity as he could muster. He ruthlessly sliced through the bottom half of the cupcake, and staring Scott in the eye, took that half and squashed it down onto the intricate decorations on the top. 

Scott just grinned. A grin that faded into a fond smile as he watched Conrad finally give up and get his fingers messy. He did shift uncomfortably as Conrad barely met his eyes for a moment before he finished licking the vanilla buttercream from his fingers with a smirk.

“So, Scott Tracy,” Conrad leaned in, “why are you really here? What do you really want?”

Scott took Conrad’s hands in his own, and looked deeply in his eyes, then with complete sincerity whispered:

“What I really wanna do, is ride your motorcycle.”

Conrad stared for a moment, a blush furiously creeping over his features, and laid his head down on the table to hide his face. He could feel the weight of the stares from the other tables.

“You are absolutely determined to destroy the reputation as a scary, but boring bastard I painstakingly constructed for myself in one sitting, aren’t you?” Conrad said when he lifted his head again, then he leaned back in toward Scott and smiled, and softly said, “But did you remember to bring a helmet; you know my rules, no helmet no ride.”

Scott reached under his seat with a manic grin.

“Yes, I did.”

And plonked a motorcycle helmet on the table.

Conrad laughed so hard, he literally fell out of his seat.

That did it, several people discreetly hurried into the building. Something was very wrong with the Lt. Colonel, and Sir Charles needed to be informed. 

Scott got up and hurried round to offer his assistance to Conrad. He held out his hands and felt a rush of delight when Conrad grasped them and let him help him up. It was Scott's turn to blush when Conrad looked him up and down with an appreciative look. Black jeans. Good boots, because he had estimated he had had a fifty/fifty chance of getting Conrad to actually listen to him. And a tight t-shirt just the _right_ shade of blue to set off his eyes.

“I have to go get my gear,” Conrad looked around, and realized that people were actually concerned, “and let Charles know I have not lost my mind.”


	5. Adrenaline. An Apology.  And Sweet Ice Tea.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Scott avoids giving Conrad a concussion. Conrad pretty much confesses he's still in love with Scott. And Havoc makes a very brief appearance. Just not in that order

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has ended up being much longer than I thought it would be. There's a lot of talking in this chapter - probably in the next one too. I hope no one minds.

Scott had been surprised when Conrad had re-appeared moving fast and all but herded Scott to the parking lot and his motorcycle. He hurriedly tapped their helmets together to sync the comm and visual systems.

“Conrad?”

“Just get on, Scottie,” Conrad said tersely as he put on his helmet and got on his bike, “I’ll tell you when we’re moving.”

So Scott got on, and snorted quietly to himself as the engine roared to life, at how easy it was to settle in behind Conrad – _just like riding a bike_ he thought to himself.

Once they were away, the comm system chimed, and Conrad’s voice was in Scott’s helmet.

“Sorry about hurrying us off like that, but I told Charles I had decided to take the afternoon off. He’s been after me about taking time off,” there was a pause and a minor cursing as they negotiated around an auto-cab that was past it’s maintenance date, “I got to him _first_.”

“Why is that important?”

“Well, I didn’t tell him you were here, so he was under the impression I was just going to go home and relax,” there was a note of guilt in Conrad’s voice, “and I expect as soon as I left the office, he probably heard about you from someone else.”

“Conrad.” Scott’s own voice was bordering on the tone he used when he was trying to get one of his brothers to confess to something he knew they had done but still wasn’t certain what exactly they had done.

“I recall being told the last time you and the Admiral were in the same place together, he threatened to bash your head in with a fire-axe and keel-haul you. I didn’t want to take the chance.”

The gently humming of an open comm system filled both their helmets for a few moments.

“He was the Captain that…?”

“**_Yes_**.”

Scott silently thanked whatever deity that might be listening that they hadn’t had to try and get the T-Drive Engine plans from Sir Charles Gray. He imagined it would have been a civil, cold, and futile conversation.

With that, silence fell again, and Scott let himself relax against Conrad. It was odd. So much the same, and so different. They really needed to talk, but at the moment Scott wished this wouldn't end. He could almost pretend he was a college-aged idiot again, racing around New Haven and neighboring Hamden on the back of his boyfriend’s motorcycle (and hadn’t that been a change from having to be the designated driver for his little brothers,) and his family, his whole intact family, was just a call away. Then he felt a ripple of tension in Conrad’s back and snapped back to the present.

“We have a tail; purple monstrosity pretending to be a muscle-car trying to catch up with us,” Conrad announced, “Chaos Crew. Havoc, I believe.”

Well, crap. He didn’t want to involve Conrad in the Hood’s feud with International Rescue.

“Pull over, Conrad, GIN or not I don’t want…”

Conrad just laughed, and Scott knew that laugh. It haunted his dreams, chilled him to the bone, and made him giddy with anticipation. Scott checked the rear view using his helmet’s HUD; Havoc was almost driving up their tail pipe. Other drivers on the highway for once appeared to be showing good judgment and getting the hell out of their way.

“One, Scottie, I _am_ GIN. Two, I’m technically licensed to kill as well, but I don’t need any more paperwork this week. So Three…Hold on tight. I’m going to open it up and show her what speed really is.”

Scott tightened his hold, and felt something shift in the frame of the bike, and then…

Scott was use to other people hanging onto _him_ for dear life, it being the other way around was a novel sensation. He ignored everything else and watched as Havoc’s Spoiler fell away. Scott could almost see the dumb-founded look on her face. Conrad was giggling quietly in his ear. It took him a moment to realize that he was giggling as well.

* * *

Havoc's jaw dropped as the motorcycle effortlessly left her in the dust. She thought about trying to catch up, then decided it had been a long shot anyway.

She had been hanging around a GDF base, looking for an opportunity to cause a little chaos, and had seen Scott Tracy, sans Thunderbird, leave the base and then followed him to an office building. Havoc had been planning on snatching just him, but then he had gone and flirted with some guy in a GDF uniform (a lieutenant colonel, of course a Tracy would settle for nothing less, still probably thought he was slumming it since it wasn’t a full-blown colonel.) When they both got on that pretty bike, she thought for sure she’d hit the jackpot. She’d have Scott Tracy to give the Boss as leverage, and somebody they could use to keep Tracy in line, and the Boss would have a high-ranking GDF officer to impersonate.

Then that bike had all but transformed while they were still riding it, and it had…well, she knew better than to say it flew away, but damn she was going to have to work on Spoiler’s engine.

Still, she considered, it might be worth finding out who Tracy’s Lt. Colonel was. The Boss was always looking for an International Rescue weak spot.

* * *

Scott could still feel the buzz of adrenaline long after they slowed back down. Which was why he paid more attention to Conrad rather than the building they had just entered and had actually fidgeted in the elevator. But once the door to Conrad’s condo was closed (and locked) he had turned to Conrad and reached out, just stopping short of touching him. It had been drilled into him since he was young: never without explicit consent. Conrad had such an odd look on his face - like he was analyzing Scott – then he gave a brief nod and his eyes softened.

The “Yes” was almost soundless.

It was almost as awkward as their first kiss. That kiss had been hampered by Conrad’s inexperience and Scott not quite being use to kissing someone who was only three inches shorter than himself. This kiss was more like two dancers waltzing, both trying to lead, neither wanting to admit they had forgotten some of the steps, neither wanting to push the other, but both dedicated to the dance.

Finally, Scott leveraged his extra bit of height and pressed Conrad back against the door, one hand behind Conrad’s head (never a good idea to give the person you’re kissing a concussion), the other at the small of his back. Conrad’s hands, well, Scott knew just how good those hands felt and now was no exception. Scott felt the strangest sense of victory when he felt Conrad relax against him.

He broke the kiss momentarily to catch his breath, and then Conrad pressed one of his hand against Scott’s chest.

“We. Have. To. Talk.”

And Scott let go and stepped back; he was feeling a touch light-headed.

“Sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry, but if we kept that up, we would have ended up on the couch and then I would have to get it re-upholstered, and there would be questions of the kind I don’t want to deal with,” Conrad babbled breathlessly, “ and we do need to talk, gods we need to talk, but I missed …”

“Right,” Scott cutting in, knowing Conrad was a champion babbler, ‘Uh, bathroom?”

Yeah, over there,” Conrad nodded towards a half-opened door, “I need to get out of this uniform.”

Scott wisely refrained from saying something that probably would end them up on the couch. So he went into the bathroom and took care of some pressing matters.

* * *

Conrad's condo was almost exactly as Scott thought it would be. An open floor plan. A lounge filled with stylish, but more importantly comfortable furniture, in black, and two walls of floor to ceiling bookcases. A small dining area. And a kitchen that was compact, but still functional for someone who liked to bake.

It took him a moment to realize that there were only two doors, one to the half-bath he had used and the door to the outside hallway. It took him another moment to realize Conrad was nowhere to be seen.

Then a section of a bookcase swung out and he briefly got a glimpse of a hallway behind Conrad as he reappeared before the hidden door swung shut, but then his concentration was on Conrad.

“Still all black?” Scott gently chuckled, taking in the black t-shirt and trousers.

“I look good in it,” Conrad shrugged, “Boots off, Scott.”

“Ah, right, sorry,” and while Scott took off his boots, Conrad wandered over to the kitchen, “This place is nice.”

“Thanks. Want something to drink? I have ice tea, orange juice, or water.”

Scott frowned, “No beer?”

“No beer; I developed a drinking problem after the airfield attack, and then I had to choose between beer and being a pilot and an astronaut,” Conrad shrugged again, “beer lost. Only alcohol here is the vodka I use to make pie crust and clean my shoes with. You don't want to drink that.”

“Wait what?” Scott was having a little difficulty processing what Conrad mentioned so casually, “wait, wait, drinking problem, vodka?”

“It's the nasty cheap stuff,” Conrad wrinkled his nose, “only good for pies and shoes.”

And of course that was how Conrad's mind worked Scott decided as he gave up for the moment. He knew he would be bringing up the drinking problem bit up later (much later) and he sat down on the sofa. It lived up to his impression that it would be comfortable.

“I'll have ice tea, please.”

Conrad brought over two glasses, handed one to Scott, then sat in the armchair opposite the sofa. Scott was a little disappointed. He took a sip of the tea and only then remembered Conrad's ice tea was inevitably sweet tea.

“To repeat what I said back at GIN,” Conrad looked Scott in the eyes, “What do you want?”

“To thank you for the T-Drive Engine plans, and,” he paused, this was a difficult part, “to apologize for what I did. I am so, so sorry for it,” he struggled for a moment, Conrad waiting patiently, “I can't even begin to find the words.”

“Hmm, how about 'Conrad, I'm sorry I screamed and yelled at you as you nearly died. I'm sorry for being such a selfish twat that I accused you of being selfish for not being able to console me because you were busy lying in hospital intensive care burn unit trying not to die. I'm sorry that I didn't give a flying fuck that you needed me as much as I needed you, because I was all me, me, me and was a selfish prick.' “ Conrad said flatly, with a raised eyebrow, “That about cover it?”

Scott cringed hard.

“Yeah, that about covers it,” he admitted, “I'm...I'm surprised you remember so much.”

“Actually, Scott, I remember very little of what you said. Bits. Pieces. Fragments. I don't remember that much. But what I remember was the absolute excruciating pain and actually feeling glad because I figured that there was no way it could get worse,” Conrad's voice was raw with pain; he paid more attention to the floor than Scott, “And then you came, and then it did. And I can't even begin to describe the agony of what came after. That's all I remember until Charles was ordering me, begging me, not to die, and even that's a blur because, well, I did.”

Scott wished the sofa would swallow him whole.

“The thing is, Scott,” Conrad lifted his eyes, “part of me actually understands it. You just lost your Mom and Grandfather, almost lost a little brother, and your stupid boyfriend goes and gets himself blown up. It'd make anyone lose it,” he blew out a gusty breath, “being on my side of the equation wasn't fun, I wanted to hurt you back somehow, and I know there are still some people who'd love to give you a piece of their minds, but I forgave you a long time ago, Scott.”

Scott stared and his eyes welled up with tears.

“Conrad...”

“For one thing, staying angry at you took up too much energy; I had better things to do,” Conrad said wryly and hurriedly.

“Conrad...” but this time Scott laughed wetly.

“So, now that's done.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Now what?”

Scott considered that. He hadn't thought much beyond apologizing; honestly hadn't really thought he'd get this far.

“Tell me what you missed about me?” Conrad asked unexpectedly, then suddenly looked appalled, “sorry, that was a bad question, forget I asked.”

“Applesauce cups.”

“What?”

“It took me forever to look at those little cups of applesauce again without flinching because I'd be aware that you weren't there, and Alan use to insist on them with his lunch because Mom used to feed them to him.”

“Seriously? Applesauce cups?”

“The way you’d just rip off the lids without looking and slurp them down, when you’d get so focused on something you were studying or working on. It’s just. I loved watching you be so focused,” Scott smiled, “the way you’d light up with joy when you found something interesting or an idea hit you. The way you’d smile, same as when you’d smile at me. Somehow applesauce cups got linked with that, and I missed seeing you smile.”

Conrad smiled.

Scott wanted to say 'There, that one,' but didn't want to spook it off Conrad's face.

“What did you miss about me?”

“Be easier to list what I didn't miss,” Conrad admitted, “But...your stuff in the bathroom. It meant you'd be there. It took me three years and Juliette drawing circles on the sink and on the shelves, to stop me from keeping all my stuff on one little corner of the sink and on one half of the shelves in the cabinet. I always was expecting your hair care stuff to just turn up again one day. Sprawled out all over the place. And you to be there bitching how you were going to go gray before you were thirty. (It’s a good look on you by the way, I don’t know why you worried.) That you would be there and you never were.”

Scott didn’t know how to react to that. It hurt more than expected. So he latched on to the one thing that made him curious.

“Juliette?”

“Juliette Pontoin; one of my best friends,” Conrad considered that for a moment, “Okay, perhaps one of my only friends, beside Charles and Rose.”

Scott stared at him with something akin to awe.

“Juliette Pontoin, shipping magnet, ace pilot, and the second richest woman in the world, drew circles in your bathroom? How do you even know her? She's more elusive than we are.”

Conrad looked entirely too innocent.

“Well, Scottie, you're not the only one who’s admired my motorcycle.”

“WHAT?!?”

Conrad snorted with laughter.

“Easy there, Scott, Juliette really was just interested in my bike. Besides, she's as ace as I am gay,” Conrad explained, entirely too pleased with himself, “there was a GDF function with high-level contractors, one that Tracy Industries’ Rep skipped out on. Juliette was tired of either being buttered up or leered at and decided she needed some air. I was escaping the party around the same time and found her much like I found you, drooling over my bike. Once any potential misunderstandings were straightened out, we went for a ride. She likes things that go fast too. You’d like her.”

And he smiled again.

An unexpected spike of jealousy made Scott unconsciously frown. That was _his _smile. He wasn’t certain that he would like Juliette Pontoin.

“Scott?”

“Sorry, being a jealous asshat,” Scott admitted, deciding honesty was best, “despite not having any right to.”

A silence fell, but it was a nice one. Better than either of them had expected. Scott, wishing it were beer, finished his ice tea.

“So how are your brothers? I know John’s happy enough in Thunderbird 5, although…when did he have a daughter?”

“EOS isn’t…well, actually I suppose she is in a very weird way, but EOS is an A.I. John accidentally created. I really shouldn’t be talking about her; we’re keeping her existence quiet.”

Conrad considered.

“Right, John has a daughter, she’s extremely precocious. Not exactly a lie.”

Scott gave him a questioning look.

“Charles,” Conrad sighed, “was impressed by John’s and EOS’ hacking skills; they’ve gotten further into GIN’s systems than anyone else so far. He will ask about it, and I have a rule about not lying to him.”

“But you will omit things,” Scott pointed out as he chuckled, “which can be as bad as lying. We’ve talked about that before, babe,” it just slipped out, flopping between them like a fish out of water, “uhhh.”

“Your other brothers, how are they doing?” Conrad pressed on, “Alan’s turned into an impressive astronaut.”

“Yeah, he’s good,” Scott paused, “I kinda wish he didn’t have to be. We’ve all tried really hard to give him as, well, normal a childhood as possible, like Mom and Dad tried to do for us, but… Alan’s never really known anything but International Rescue.”

“I seem to be stepping on landmines.”

Scott startled, and laughed guiltily.

“Well, Virgil is Virgil, painting, playing the piano, keeping the rest of us from going to pieces. I should worry more about him, he tends to hold his own cards pretty close to his chest,” Scott nodded to himself, “Gordon’s on the verge of asking Lady Penelope out, so that’s going to be a landmine, but I’m going to let John and Parker handle that one. He was injured retrieving the information that made us realize that Dad could still be alive,” he paused, “he’s also the one who suggested I talk to you.”

“Hmm.”

“Really, our lives have pretty much revolved around I.R.” Scott sounded sheepish, “Not a lot of time for anything else.”

“I refuse to believe Scott Tracy hasn’t been seeing someone,” Conrad prodded gently,

“Well, a few people here and there, mostly to have someone to take to T.I. functions, and, I mean, you’ve got to know about Nia.”

Conrad snorted.

“Scott, you dated and got engaged to the daughter of the biggest rock star on the planet. Of course, I know about Nia. I was happy for you. You seemed happy with her.”

“No jealousy?”

“Need your ego stroked, Scott?” Conrad said drily as he cocked his eyebrow.

Scott laughed.

“I was a roiling ball of jealousy, but I got to see you smiling again,” Conrad smiled a bit sadly, “it felt good to know you were happy. I was sorry when it ended. I did meet her once at a GDF morale concert; she’s a good person.”

“Dammit,” Scott murmured under his breath, then asked, “anyone serious for you?’

“Not really, I dated, but eh, either they couldn’t keep up with me, or they thought they could use me ton advance their career, or once they really got to know me decided I was just too weird for them. “

“You’re not weird,” Scott insisted as he interrupted.

“Scott, you come from a family of extraordinary people; your definition of weird and a ‘normal’ person’s definition of weird are two very different things, which I have always been grateful for,” Conrad insisted back, “Anyway, after a while it just seemed pointless. I know I sound pathetic, but I’ve never been able to get over you,” he confessed, “you’re like the best chocolate cake in existence; I tasted that first, and anything after has been a pale imitation… Scott, stop it. You’re making that sad face. It’s not your fault I have good taste in men.”

“Yeah, well, all things considered I have to dispute that,” Scott looked ashamed.

“You realize by saying that you’re denigrating my choice in who I love, right?” Conrad replied with a ‘you’re an idiot, but I love you’ look.

“Huh? What?” Scott shook his head in confusion, then laughed, then started to cry. The look of honest affection on Conrad’s face felt like someone had punched him in the gut. 

“Whoah, whoah, Scottie,” Conrad moved from his chair to sit next to Scott on the couch, and wrapped an arm around Scott’s shoulder, “Scottie, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” Scott leaned into him, snaked an arm around his waist, and that felt good, “You always called me on my bullshit.”

“And you always did the same for me,” Conrad curled into Scott's side. “Question is, where do we go from here?”


	6. Rock Falls, Everyone Dies...No Not Really.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loose plans are made. Colonel Casey interrupts. Scott Tracy is a troll.

For a little bit, it felt like time had stopped and stopped at a really good moment. Snuggled together on the couch, Conrad almost dropped off on Scott’s shoulder.

“I’d like,” Scott’s hesitant voice nudged him back to wakefulness, “to try again. I know I’ve hurt you, and that’s not something that either of us can easily overlook. But I know we could be good again. We could try, starting now.”

Conrad pulled away from Scott, and studied him with his head tilted.

"As much as I want to jump back in and pretend nothing's happened and no time has passed," Conrad said, his eyes going sad, "I can't. I'm still in love with the Scott of over a decade ago. I don't know the Scott in front of me now. I want to. I really, really want to,” Conrad blushed, “And Scott, if you still have feelings for me, they're for a Conrad who literally died over a decade ago," Scott paled, "I'm the Conrad who exists now, and I'm more different from the Conrad of back then, than you may realize."

"You never did pull your punches," Scott laughed shakily.

"As I recall, that's one of the reasons you loved me. And I'm afraid there's another hit coming," Conrad's voice was thick with regret, "I don't think now is the time to try and really rekindle anything...no, let me finish, Scottie...You need to concentrate on getting your Dad back. I still have my reservations about that, and you don't need those distracting you right now. You need to do this now for your family, for your Dad, and for yourself. And part of me is being selfish. I don't want to have you back in my life and lose you again if something goes wrong. It killed me once, and the Admiral had to order me to come back. I couldn't do it a second time. I'm not saying never. I'm saying..." he looked around his own home as if he didn't recognize where they were, lost, "I don't know what I'm saying."

Scott wanted to be impulsive. Scott wanted to tell Conrad he was wrong, that they could just pick up where they left off. Scott wanted to pull Conrad back to him and not let go until Conrad agreed with him. But the easy affectionate physicality of earlier had ebbed away, and Scott realized he couldn't be impulsive now. He reached a hand out tentatively, and let Conrad bring it up to his face.

“I get it. No really, I get it,” Scott said softly, “but I would like when I get back, and it will be _when_ not _if_, I would like really try again. But before then, can I have to chance to get to know this Conrad? And you can have the chance know me again. I just would like to see you again before we go to get Dad. Nothing serious. Nothing binding. We can even have one of my brothers chaperone, or better,” Scott managed bright grin, “My Grandma.”

“Scott,” Conrad said abruptly, “I remember your Grandmother; she would be looking for excuses to leave us alone together while mentioning how comfy your bed was. How about Lady Penelope’s chauffeur, Parker?”

“Brains,” Scott countered.

“Ms. Kyrano.”

“No, Kayo wouldn’t even make an excuse to leave. She’d just disappear, and watch from some hidden location, with popcorn.”

Conrad snorted with laughter.

“Seriously Scott, I,” he sighed, and made an ‘I surrender’ gesture, “I’d like that.”

Scott felt something in his chest lighten, then he looked at the clock.

“Is that really the time?”

“Yes, it is,” Conrad shook his head, “I am getting hungry.”

“Want to go out?”

“Not really.”

“Order in?”

“Sure, just let me…” Conrad’s communicator went off. He looked at the identifier, “Colonel Casey. Scott, would you mind?”

Scott nodded and left the couch. He watched unhappily as Conrad froze away into Lt. Colonel Turner. His spine stiffening. His mouth hardening. His eyes losing all warmth. The transformation was disturbing.

The image of Colonel Casey flared to life in front of him.

Before Conrad could even say anything.

“Lt. Colonel Turner, I have received word that you had an encounter with Havoc of the Chaos Crew this afternoon and you have not yet reported it. Need I remind you that any GDF Officer, regardless of their duty area are under orders to report Chaos Crew activity?”

Scott was a touch shocked at the tone of voice Colonel Casey was using, and the hostility of her body language.

“With all due respect, ma’am, I am and was off-duty. The orders specify the report being submitted within twenty-four hours of any incident depending on the urgency of the activity. Havoc decided to play freeway tag with me, rather spontaneously. I de-escalated any incident by removing myself from her vicinity out of concern for other drivers,” He said calmly, stiffly, “I was going to file a report tomorrow morning.”

“Turner, do I need to reminder you of the seriousness of any situation involving the Chaos Crew or the Hood?”

“No, Colonel Cas…” then Conrad got distracted. Scott was taking off his shirt, mussing his hair and unbuttoned the top of his jeans, “just a moment, ma’am,” then he hissed, “What do you think you’re doing?”

Ignoring Conrad, Scott wandered into the communicator’s view field, and settled himself in on the couch, snuggling close to Conrad

“Oh, hey Colonel Casey,” he said in a very… satisfied voice, as he kissed Conrad.

Colonel Casey’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“I think we can continue this conversation at a later time,” She hurriedly said.

“Yeah, you can,” Scott grinned lazily, and hit the end call button.

“What the hell Scott!?”

“Sorry, I recognized Colonel Casey’s going to give a long lecture voice, and this was the fastest thing I could think of to get her to stop,” Scott wisely moved away and re-buttoned his jeans.

“Really? You couldn’t just interrupt and tell her now is not a good time?”

“I didn’t like the way she was talking to you,” Scott admitted, “it was like…”

“She was pissed off at me?” Conrad interrupted and finished. He shook his head, “She _is_ pissed off with me. For a number of reasons. One of which is that I didn’t let Central Command place the blame on me or anyone in the GDF Space Division regarding the whole Sentinel-Mechanic Debacle. I had documents and paper trails proving that the Space Division had sent numerous warnings that something was up and could we have permission to go investigate the irregularities we were detecting. I made Central Command look bad. Something is very rotten in the GDF, Scott. It’s one of the reasons Charles all but dragged me into the assistant director position at GIN. He was worried I had a target on my back.”

“Kayo has found evidence of a spy in the GDF,” Scott said hesitantly, “it’s why we haven’t been more public with the possibility of my Dad being alive.”

“There’s more than a spy, Scott, and I’m beginning to think it’s more than the GDF,” Conrad sagged, “Didn’t you think it even slightly suspicious that despite all the vetting that should take place when a new commander is put in place, no one double-checked Colonel Janus’ background? When I became head of the Space Division they damn near demanded the contact information of all my elementary school teachers. Yet the Hood was able to get a man, who if you ever lightly scratched the surface of his history the whole game fell apart, into a position of considerable power.”

They both looked miserable.

“Dammit, now I’ve lost my appetite.”

Scott considered this, and then draped himself across Conrad’s lap.

“I know,” he purred, “of at least one thing that is guaranteed to get your appetite back. But you’re right, it would be a shame to ruin this nice sofa…” he trailed off suggestively.

“After everything we just discussed and agreed on, you want to…**_wait_**…” Conrad sputtered furiously, then his eyes narrowed suspiciously, he shoved Scott away, and then he burst out laughing, “You fucking troll, you just want to know how to open the bookcase door, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah,” Scott grinned widely, as he grabbed and put on his shirt, “secret doors are catnip to Tracys, and always have been. Come to Tracy Island, and I show you how we get down to our Thunderbirds. Anyway, let’s get pizza. I want New York style Pizza. There’s got to be a good New York Pizza joint near here. Do you know how hard it is to get New York style Pizza on a private island the South Pacific?”

“Can’t get pizza in paradise, poor baby,” Conrad smiled back, his voice oozing false sympathy, “just for that you’re paying.”

Scott laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, only the multiple choice epilogues to go. :-)


	7. Multiple Choice Epilogues - the first four (Remember Zero is a number)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first four of five epilogues. The initial one does happen, the rest are pick which one you like best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Major Character Death. Possession. Implied Unplanned Pregnancy. The Mysterons being villains.

**Epilogue Zero – The One That Actually Happened **

_The Next Morning_

“I received a call from Colonel Casey yesterday afternoon,” Charles Gray said mildly.

Conrad, facing away from the Admiral, rolled his eyes, not at his Admiral but Colonel Casey. He did respect her, but she had taken his pro-active defense of himself and his division, and his later ‘jumping ship’ as a personal affront.

“If it was about the incident with Havoc of the Chaos Crew,” Conrad turned, “I submitted a report as soon as I came in this morning.”

“Hmm,” Charles Gray raised an eyebrow, “she also expressed concern that you’re somehow ‘exploiting and manipulating Scott Tracy.’ Her words, not mine.”

Conrad froze complete as he processed those words.

“What the hell!” Conrad shouted once his mind thawed enough to react, “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to shout.”

“I set her straight,” Gray replied calmly, “and reminded her that, while her concern for her friend’s son is understandable and admirable, Scott Tracy was both a grown man, indeed nearly a year older than you, and he is in a position with far more and more far reaching power than you are. International Rescue may defer to the GDF, but Tracy Industries holds considerably more sway in the world at large. She apologized.”

Conrad took a deep breath, and nodded. He was still upset, but placed his faith in his friend.

“Thank you. You know I appreciate that.”

“But I have to ask, strictly as your friend who is worried for you,” Gray continued hesitantly, “why was, if he was, Scott Tracy half-undressed?”

Anyone else asking that question would have been snapped at, even Juliette, but given the hell Conrad had put Charles through in the past, and the fact that Charles and his wife, Rose, could have walked away from him at any time, Conrad knew that the question was asked out of true concern for him.

“Scott Tracy has,” he gave a small, wry smile, “a really weird sense of humor, believe it or not, and is overprotective of anyone he cares about. He decided he didn’t like the way she was talking to me and did something about it. I don’t think it even entered his head how it could be misconstrued except in the most obvious manner.”

“So I am not,” the Admiral gave his own wry smile, “going to have to give him the ‘shovel speech’, as my daughter calls it.”

Conrad stared at him dumbfounded, then laughed.

“I would appreciated it if you did not. Not yet at least.”

“Good; I will be better prepared for it at a later date then,” Gray nodded, and reverted to business, “Now, we’ve been getting some chatter out of Yucatan peninsula…”

* * *

**Epilogue One ** **–** ** The Bad One**

Scott had expected to return to Earth triumphantly. They had recovered their Dad, and while Jeff was a little more the worse for wear, he was already starting to bounce back.

But they came back to an Earth entangled in a War of Nerves.

Of course, it had all been Langstrom Fischler’s fault. He had snuck aboard Francios Lemaire’s ship to Mars as a crew member under an assumed name, when the wealthy explorer had answered the call to explore an area of Mars that had been emitting odd signals even though the World Government has asked him not to. The newly formed Spectrum had sent their best agent, Captain Black, better known to the Tracys as Conrad Turner, after him.

Captain Black had caught up with Lemaire, and had been successful in convincing the man that a larger party, more representative of Earth as a whole, should be looking into the best indication of Intelligent Life on Mars. Lemaire would still, of course, be part of that party.

And then a large, delicate, beautiful crystalline complex had shimmered into existence in front of Lemaire’s transport.

There had been a chance that everything could still go right, because while Lemaire wanted to attempt communications with the complex, Captain Black had once again reasoned with the man that linguists, language experts, and cultural specialists should be there, so Earth, being represented by Lemaire of course, would be seen in its, his, best light.

Fischler chose that moment to interrupt.

Why should they wait for all that rigmarole?!? They should just use the handy dandy Fischler Industries Sonic Universal Translator! That he had conveniently wired into Lemaire’s transport on the sly. Fischler Industries expanding its and humanity’s horizons!

Before anyone could stop him, he turned the damn thing on, and yodeled:

“Hello!!!!!”

The entire complex began to shake.

“Is anyone there?!?!?!”

The complex had been as beautiful in its destruction as it had been in its first appearance. Shards of crystal flashing, and iridescent dust floating in Mars’ thin atmosphere. When it all over and done with, Fischler had the nerve and just enough time to say:

“Well, that was unfortunate! Back to the drawing board!”

Before a single crystal spire rose the ruins, and a gods awful ear splitting noise that sent everyone on the transport to their knees was heard as the spire emitted two incredible bright green light rings that washed over the tragic destruction.

Everyone was spell-bound as the complex seemed to reassemble itself out of thin air, and then:

**“****Earthmen, we are peaceful beings and you have tried to destroy us, but you cannot succeed. You and your people will pay for this act of aggression. This is the voice of the Mysterons. We know that you can hear us Earthmen. Our retaliation will be slow, but nonetheless effective. It will mean the ultimate destruction of life on Earth. It will be useless for you to resist for we have discovered the secret of reversing matter as you have just witnessed. One of you will be under our control. You will be instrumental in avenging the Mysterons**.”*

And, because it was Lemaire, the entire incident had been broadcasted to Earth. A broadcast that ended abruptly when Captain Black clutched at his head and started screaming.

When Lemaire’s ship returned to Earth everyone on board was dead. The only consolation was that it seemed all of them had been killed quickly, efficiently and quite probably painlessly. Except Fischler. He had been put in an airlock that had been very slowly cycled. 

Captain Black was nowhere to be found.

Scott learned all this in a joint Spectrum-GDF base. Watched the recording, and then heard about the events that had been occurring since then. Captain Black made an entirely too effective opponent. It was almost too much. 

“I need some air,” he had said, and received sympathetic nods and shoulder pats from Colonel White and Colonel Casey.

Scott had wandered out of the main building to a small recreation area outside. He sat down hard on a bench, and stared at the ground. He initially ignore the person who sat down beside him, thinking it some well-meaning comforter; Scott didn’t want comfort now. He kept on ignoring them until they elbowed him. Then he looked up.

Conrad was smiling at him, it was the wry, fond smile that indicated he was entirely too amused with something Scott was doing. Scott seized Conrad’s upper arms, staring at him hopefully.

**“** **Hello Scott.** **”**

And hope was dashed. Scott knew he should be sounding an alarm, but…

“Let him go!” Scott shouted, gaining attention for other who hadn’t noticed their base had been infiltrated.

That made the horrible thing that was and was not Conrad grin.

**“****We will make a deal with you, Earthman. Capture Captain Black, and keep him from escaping for the entirety of one of your Earth days, and we will give you your conrad back and we will end the War of Nerves,****”** there was an unnerving ring of laughter to the voice coming out of Conrad’s mouth, **“****But first you, and you alone Scott Tracy, must catch him.****”**

And with that, Captain Black vanished.

_* Taken verbatim from the first Episode of **Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons.**_

* * *

**Epilogue Two ** **–** ** The It Can Get Worse One**

John’s brow furrowed as he floated in front of the holographic display.

“Something’s wrong. I’m picking up only one life sign.”

There should, they all knew, at least be three, hopefully four life signs.

“Could they be in the hibernation chambers?” Virgil asked from the landing field on Earth, glancing sideways at the men in colorful uniforms, Spectrum’s Color Captains; the one in black was particularly tense. Worse was Lady Penelope resting her hand on her bump as she leaned on Parker. Virgil really hoped it was a just blip in Thunderbird 5’s systems.

“I don’t, I don’t think so,” John’s voice held something Virgil had hoped to never hear again, that particular fear that they had lost family again, “Eos, can you”

He didn’t even have to finish.

“Yes John, I will do a deeper scan.”

There was a silence so loud Virgil thought he had gone deaf.

“I’m sorry, John,” Eos sounded heartbroken, “There is only one life sign.”

Then communication systems, entertainment systems, and any system capable of broadcast came alive all over the planet.

And Scott Tracy appeared on all them.

He was seated in the Zero-X mark II’s command seat. Eyes closed. Back stiff and upright like an ancient king.

“Scott?” Virgil tried to pretend he hadn’t heard the fearful pain in Captain Black’s voice, or Penelope’s bewildered, “Where’s Gordon?” because the reality of what EOS said hadn’t sunk into her yet.

Then Scott opened his eyes and they were a solid glowing green. His mouth opened and the voice of legion came out:

“**THIS IS THE VOICE OF THE MYSTERONS, WE KNOW THAT YOU CAN HEAR US EARTHMEN**…”

* * *

**Epilogue Three ** **–** ** The One In The Middle of the Road.**

Scott had expected to return to Earth triumphantly. They had recovered their Dad, and while Jeff was a little more the worse for wear, he was already starting to bounce back.

But they came back to an Earth entangled in a War of Nerves.

They got the bare-bones of what happened as they examined to prove they were not “Mysterons” whatever those were.

A joint GDF-Spectrum mission to find out where some unexpected signals were coming from on Mars was led by Spectrum’s Captains Scarlet and Ultramarine, Paul Metcalfe and Conrad Lefkon respectively. They found the signals originated from a strange eerily empty alien complex.

Ultramarine panicked when a scanner rose from the complex, and he fired missiles at it destroying the complex utterly. 

Or so they thought.

So now Martains, Mysterons, whatever you wanted to call them, were cheesed off at Earth, and slowly driving everyone insane from worry of where they would strike next.

Oh, and Captain Ultramarine was under their control and causing massive havoc, Captain Scarlet was now apparently indestructible, and International Rescue had reluctantly (on both sides) been folded into Spectrum for their own protection.

There had been objections by the returning IR members, once they had been cleared as not Mysterons, but they were tiredly informed by Colonel White and John that no one, but no one, needed the Beacon of Hope that was International Rescue to be destroyed by the Mysterons.

In fact International Rescue duty rotation was highly looked forward to by Spectrum personnel, even if most of them were scared to death of the permanent International Rescue liaison officer, Captain Black.

And after the return of Scott Tracy, some of them came back with some wild and entertaining stories to share on Cloudbase and Skybase.

And the War of Nerves raged on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will have the final "Happy Epilogue." (Probably posted sometime this weekend.) Also I'm curious what people think of the various epilogues?


	8. Epilogue Four - The Happily Ever After One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And They All Lived Happily Everafter...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late. I was dealing with a bout of depression, writer's block and stress irl.

When they reached the Oort Cloud, they found the original Zero-X, and they discovered their Dad had managed to cobble together a functioning hibernation pod. A good thing, because at some point space detritus had punctured the ship's hull and its atmosphere was lost.

With some care, they moved the pod over to the Zero-X Mark II before they attempted any kind of wake cycle.

It was purely by chance that it was Alan who was on Dad watch when Jeff Tracy finally reached true consciousness. Alan had been so nervous that he couldn't make a sound as Jeff's eyes fixed on him. A moment that lasted forever, and filled Alan with fear that his Dad didn't recognize him. Then Jeff absolutely beamed at him with pride, his voice weak and hoarse:

“Alan. My little astronaut.”

“Not so little any more, Dad,” Alan managed before he burst into tears.

* * *

For those left behind on Earth, it took the Zero-X Mark II a little under seven months to make the round trip from Earth to the Oort Cloud and back to Earth. There were some interesting developments during that time.

Spectrum emerged from GIN onto the global scene as a semi-autonomous agency answering only to the highest levels of the Global Government and not the GDF. But the expected rivalry, the rivalry that some politicians were hoping to exploit, never happened…

“And now I believe it would be expedient to acknowledge the hard work of my counter-part in the GDF, Colonel Casey,” Colonel White came firmly to the defense of the embattled head of the GDF at full Global Government forum, “and we would both appreciate if those of you about to be escorted by our joint Spectrum- GDF officers would come quietly and without a scene. Colonel Casey?” he bowed and gave the floor to the Head of the GDF.

Colonel Casey, with well-concealed glee, went on to outline the various ethics and criminal violations of the various politicians that had been causing the problems within the GDF, and revealed corruption, conspiracy, and that the worst of them were in bed with the terrorist known as the Hood.

There was some tension between the GDF and Spectrum, but it was the annual softball game type tension rather than the tear each other down type. (Actually, it was football/soccer, and Spectrum won the first year.)

* * *

“John?” EOS asked hesitantly when there was a rare moment of quiet on-board Thunderbird 5.

“Yes, EOS?”

“I’ve been picking up some peculiar signals from Mars. They’re not originating from the settlement,” EOS reported, “but they’re too organized, whilst retaining some irregularities, to be of any natural origin.”

John examined the information that EOS presented through the holo-projector. He sat back, floating in zero-g, his hand under his chin.

“What do you think, EOS?” John asked, “we know aquatic life exists on Europa.”

“Yes, but they don’t appear to have the ability to transmit any form of communication, yet,” EOS replied, “and would likely not be able to survive in the dry environment of Mars,” she paused, “I would like to send a transmission back.”

“Oh?” John cocked his head, “what do you plan to say?”

EOS’ circle avatar pulsed several colours, as she thought.

“An acknowledgment, a greeting, an assurance that I mean no harm, and that I have only told one other person who I trust that I have received their transmission and will not let anyone else know until they feel comfortable. That I would like to start a conversation.”

John smiled.

Life was discovered on Mars by EOS and John Tracy, and EOS was successfully introduced to the world at large as the first sentient and sapient A.I. John wanted to give EOS the entire credit for Earth’s first successful, peaceful intelligent contact with the Mysterons. EOS insisted he share it because without his guidance, she would not have been able to allay their fears of humans’ aggressive nature. She had related that even though some humans were violent idiots, the majority of them were good peaceful beings that would welcome the knowledge that the Earth was not only planet to have native sentient and sapient beings on it in the Solar System. The human settlers on Mars, particularly the children, became eager ambassadors to their neighbors. The exchange of ideas, culture, and technology was going on swimmingly.

* * *

The Hood, his political patsies in jail and singing like birds, tried to go to ground as he had when he thought he had rid himself of Jeff Tracy all those years ago. It didn’t go as planned. 

Fuse, disillusioned with the Hood, contacted the GDF, and one other person, with vital information. 

No one was entirely certain what happened next, only that as a threat the Hood had been neutralized.

And Kayo and Parker, both radiating smugness, weren’t talking.

* * *

So, when the Zero-X Mark II landed at Glenfield it was a very different, somewhat better world than they had left.

“What’s got Black up in a bother?” Captain Ochre asked out of the side of her mouth.

“Not a clue,” Captain Magenta murmured back his eyes locked on the sky to spot the returning spacecraft.

“I heard from Green that Colonel White reminded him,” Concerto Angel said quietly, “that as the ranking Spectrum Officer present he has an obligation to ensure protocols are followed and especially the quarantine protocols. Green said Black didn't seem happy about that.”

The trio abruptly stood at attention when the subject of their gossip looked sharply their way. His gaze held for a few moments before he went back to talking quietly with International Rescue’s representative.

“He can’t have heard us from over there,” Concerto whispered.

“Shh, do you want to chance it?” Magenta shushed him.

“Chance what?” Captain Scarlet asked jovially as he and his partner Captain Ultramarine joined them causing them all to jump.

“My hearing their gossiping,” Captain Black called out, not even looking in their direction.

They all froze.

“You realize you're leaning against the comm-panel, Pat?” Ultramarine pointed out with a friendly smirk, “looks like you've got a channel open.”

Magenta cursed softly as he scrambled away from the panel and tapped the send button off, as the other quietly laughed.

“I still want to know why Black’s in a snit,” Ochre said again, “He wrote most of the current safety and quarantine protocols; he doesn't need reminding.”

“There you go then, he's just making sure everything is on-board and shipshape,” Scarlet said, “We're welcoming back people who have gone the farthest from Earth; we don't know what they may have come in contact with. Black is thorough.”

Concerto Angel shook his head.

“I don’t think it’s that.”

But any further speculation was cut short as Zero-X Mark II entered Earth’s atmosphere.

And ended completely a few hours later, after the media had been escorted away, when they saw Captain Black resting his forehead and an open hand against the window of the quarantine suite with Scott Tracy mirroring him on the other side.

The Spectrum personnel hadn’t noticed at first, but then Gordon Tracy had been doing something similar, only he had his entire body pressed up against the glass and had been gazing adoringly at Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward, while singing that he only had eyes for her. And Gordon had held their, and the rest of the Tracy clan's, amused and happy attention for quite some time.

The only comment made by Spectrum personnel was a quiet “Oh” by Captain Ultramarine, and that came after a quiet, gruff “About fucking time,” from Colonel Tracy (which earned him an aghast “Dad!” from Alan.)

* * *

_Ten Months After That_

Scott resigned himself to being used as pillow; Conrad, cat-like, manage to weigh a ton when he was asleep and he was sleeping soundly with half his body draped over Scott. Scott had seen this coming. Conrad was an Introvert with a capital I and they had spent the entire day at the media circus that was the Wedding of the Decade if not the Century between Lady Penelope Crieghton-Ward and Gordon Cooper Tracy. Since he couldn't escape, Conrad was completely drained.

So now they were tucked in a small well-concealed sitting room at the ancestral Creighton-Ward estate until the media and celebrity guests left and the real, family celebration began. Scott knew John had hidden in another room, preferring to explain to EOS and her Mysteron “date” why it was important the public at large got to 'take part' in the wedding and the subsequent celebration. Scott wished him well.

“Hmm?” Conrad sleepily murmured his eyes barely opening.

“Parker just came by to let us know that the stragglers should be gone in a half an hour,” Scott said, running his fingers through Conrad's hair.

“Hmm,” Conrad's drifted completely shut again, “Love you Scottie. Marry me?”

“Already did six weeks ago,” Scott chuckled. Their wedding had been _considerably_ smaller and quieter.

“Ah, right, good,” Conrad smiled unconsciously against Scott, he queried more than half-asleep, “Marry me again?”

“Whenever you want, love, whenever you want.”

And they all lived happily ever after (except for the Hood who really should have seen it coming.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the curious, I’m mixing Classic Captain Scarlet characters and New Captain Scarlet, as well as having male Angel pilots. (Also there are two Adam Svensons; one from Boston (CCS) and one from Texas (NCS) – they’re second cousins.) The Spectrum Officers appearing here aside from Captain Black.  
Captain Scarlet – Paul Metcalfe  
Captain Ultramarine – Conrad Lefkon (NCS)  
Captain Magenta – Patrick Donaghue (CCS)  
Captain Ochre – Elaine McGee (NCS)  
Concerto Angel – Adam Svenson (Boston, CCS)


	9. Addendum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of silly additional fluff in light of the Episode _Break Out_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It occurred to me that nothing I've written in this fic was contradicted - plenty of times having plans/schematics/etc. does not equal successfully building what those plans are for. So this takes place after epilogue zero and before any other possible chose-your-own epilogues. 
> 
> Besides poor Scott is under a lot of pressure so he can be forgiven (by me anyway) for having forgotten inviting Conrad to Tracy Island.

Conrad Turner landed his aircraft on Tracy Island, following the automated instructions he received once he entered the security code Scott had given him. He was surprised that there was no one there to greet him. He knew it was possible that everyone was out on rescues, but he thought Grandma Tracy would at least be there. So, he just kept entering the security codes at every door he came across and eventually found himself in the deathly quiet lounge of the Tracy residence.

“Okay,” he muttered, it wasn’t the first time Conrad had been forgotten about (although it was the first time Scot had done so), and there was the chance that it was a truly difficult rescue, so all hands on deck were needed, “well, I’m hungry, and there has to be kitchen some place.”

He had just located it when he heard voices coming. He identified Brains’ voice and nodded to himself. That made sense; Brains had probably been working on something the engineer, and whoever was helping him, couldn’t just leave or interrupt.

“Good to see you again, Dr. Hack…” Conrad trailed off as he turned and saw just who Brains was talking to. Well, well, dead man walking. Dead man who created the t-drive engine walking. Large cybernetic dead man walking. A few lightning speed leaps of logic later and Conrad was sure that Scott was going to have a lot more to explain that just forgetting Conrad was coming to visit.

“Oh dear,” Conrad and Brain managed to say at the same time, before Conrad got a manic smile on his face.

“Dr. Hackenbacker! Good to see you again, and this must be your old friend from Uni, Dave! Nice to meet you Dave!”

The Mechanic was taken aback by this lunatic, and started to growl:

“I’m the Mech…” only have Turner quickly place a hand over his mouth.

“You’re Dave, Brains’ old friend from university, _because if you are not Dave_,” Conrad also growled, “Brains’ old friend from Uni, then I, as an agent of GIN, would have to take you into custody, since everyone has been told the Mechanic died in the Explosion of the HEX and is definitely not alive and well and walking around Tracy Island. And given what is on the line, I really, really don’t want to. So _Dave_ you are going to be.”

There was a moment Brains was frozen with anxiety and fear as the Mechanic stared down at Conrad, and Conrad stared back with absolutely no fear. MAX scuttled close and offered his creator support, metaphorical and physical, by pulling a kitchen stool close by. Then something in the Mechanic’s demeanor changed, and Brains couldn’t quite read it.

He gently removed Turner’s hand from his mouth, and let go of it.

“I prefer to go by David now,” the Mechanic deadpanned, with just the barest upturn of the corner of his mouth.

“Sure, sorry, David, my bad,” Brains sat down with a sigh of relief, “Lt. Colonel Conrad Turner, Scott’s once and future snugglebunny,” Turner offered his hand, and the Mechanic shook it. 

“Snugglebunny?” the Mechanic blinked.

“Lover sounds illicit, boyfriend sounds like we should be teenagers fumbling around in the back of his grandfather’s pickup truck, and partner can mean anything from romantic to business. Snugglebunny leave no question to what we get up to, and yet still makes people wonder if they’ve heard me correctly,” Conrad replied completely straight-faced.

The Mechanic looked at Brains, then back at Turner, and then back to Brains.

“You may be right that there is more to Scott Tracy, than I previously believed.”

“Oh, there’s a lot about Scottie I bet you don’t know,” Conrad chuckled, and evil glint in his eyes, “for example did you know…”

This time it was the Mechanic’s turn to place a hand over Turner’s mouth as he rumbled:

“And yet there is such a thing as knowing too much information.”

**Author's Note:**

> Not certain where this came from, but my formation of Spectrum in the TAG universe continues - taking a really odd turn though.  



End file.
